50 Short Stories about Atlantis
by MorganFerdinand
Summary: Stories written for a table of 50 prompts. Each story must be between 101 and 999 words. Each story will be posted as a chapter, with prompt word used as the chapter title. Rating will range between K and T, & will feature most of the core cast.
1. Before

**BEFORE: Rodney McKay**

Before Atlantis, he was Mer to his little sister, Jeanie, Meredith to his mother (Merry, when his mother was in a rare good mood), and simply Boy when his father chose to acknowledge his existence. Now he's Doctor McKay to his staff, McKay to his team (and Rodney on occasion), and still Mer to Jeanie, although it doesn't really bother him as much as he claims.

Before Atlantis, a hand raised in his direction usually meant a blow would follow. A slap from Jeanie for teasing her too much, a punch from one of the kids at school for being smarter, a different sort of slap when his mother was tired of his "attitude," or (most painful of all) a dismissive wave from his father. Now a raised hand means a greeting - hello, how are you, come over here. It's a clap on the back when Sheppard is pleased. It's a one-armed hug when Ronon catches him. It's the tiny, defiant fist of Teyla's son.

Before Atlantis, he was arrogant, pushy, annoying, fretful, cowardly, introverted, awkward, and alone. Now... Well. He's not alone, at least.


	2. After

**AFTER: John Sheppard**

The worst part of living on Earth after so many years in Atlantis was.... well, there were a lot of things, but today the top of John's list was driving.

He had been sitting in traffic for about half an hour. Somewhere up ahead, hidden by a bend in the highway and the sea of cars and tractor trailers and SUVs, was an accident. At least that's what the annoying person on the radio had told him before going back to playing some stupid, annoying, catchy song that he'd be humming the rest of the day.

The medical helicopter and wail of sirens seemed to confirm this "accident" theory.

The car was hot. John wished it would get cooler, but nothing happened. He also wished the stupid music would go away. Nothing happened.

After a few more minutes sitting in traffic, John remembered that he had to actually touch things. The car, no matter how sophisticated, would never respond to his thoughts the way the Jumper had. Air conditioning had to be adjusted manually (and was never precise). Radio stations had to be changed by pressing buttons. Traffic jams happened and there wasn't anything to do but sit and wait for the road to be cleared.

When he finally reached the supermarket and the automatic doors opened as he approached, it was almost like being back home.


	3. Living

**LIVING: John Sheppard**

If anyone were to ask Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard if he ever thinks about suicide, he would narrow his eyes, sneer a little, and ask if they were crazy. But the truth of the matter is he thinks about it a lot. Hell, anyone who's seen him take on the Wraith or jump head-first into just about any other dangerous situation will tell you that John Sheppard is a man with a death wish.

Except he's not. He's not a man with a death wish and he's not suicidal in the least.

See, thinking about it is one thing. He thinks about it from a clinical point of view. Method and means. Back on Earth, after Afghanistan, there were times when he'd be cleaning his gun and just stare at the oiled metal and wonder what it would be like to just put it in his mouth and pull the trigger. He'd known guys who'd eaten their guns. Guys who couldn't cope. Guys who couldn't see any other way out. Some of them were guys John admired. He thought they were smarter, cooler, more together than he was until they pulled the trigger. Or strung themselves up. One guy swallowed a handful of pills and ended up being talked about as "taking the pussiest way out."

Questionable grammar aside, Sheppard had to admit it really was a soft option.

He'd thought about it since they came to Atlantis. Again, looking at his gun and knowing he'd rather go out that way than a Wraith draining him. He'd rather die by his own hand (or at the hand of one of his team) than to give a Wraith a chance at going a little longer.

He'd also thought he'd take that option if Carson or Keller were to tell him he'd never be able to return to active duty until Rodney made an off-hand comment that his ATA gene meant even crippled, one-handed, and blind he'd probably still be able to pilot a Jumper.

It was really kind of creepy that Rodney just blurted that out one day, without any sort of prompting from Sheppard.

It's things like that that make John Sheppard want to keep living - the weird, insane, sometimes dangerous thought processes of Rodney McKay, the weird, sometimes lethal calmness of Teyla and Ronon. The weird, sometimes dangerous, sometimes lethal, always insane life in Atlantis. Sheppard never knows what's going to be around any corner, behind any door, or on the other side of the gate, but there's only one way to find out.

He's got to keep on living.


	4. Denial

**DENIAL: John Sheppard and Rodney McKay**

When the nightmare woke him, he called John.

"Rodney. You do realize that it's four in the morning, don't you?"

"Well. Yes." Rodney said, although the tone of voice made it clear that no, he didn't actually know that. All he knew was that he'd woken up afraid and instinctively reached for the phone to call Sheppard.

"I have to get up in two hours."

"So you're just ahead of schedule. That's a good thing, isn't it? Anyhow, I had a nightmare and I –"

Sheppard interrupted. "Don't you have a girlfriend to make the scary clowns go away?"

"She's gone. Well, not _gone_. She's working overnights this week."

John ignored the tiny knot that had formed when Rodney said Jennifer was gone. He ignored it so much that he also ignored Rodney, who was still yapping in his ear.

"Are you even listening to me?" Rodney snapped.

"Of course I am."

"So you will?"

"Of course I will?" John fished in the silence, wondering what he was agreeing to.

"Great. See you in fifteen minutes." Rodney was the only person John knew who could hang up a cordless phone with such authority that it _felt_ like having the receiver slammed in your ear. And apparently what John had agreed to was going over to Rodney's house. At _four in the morning_. Because Rodney had a _bad dream_.

Rodney was _so_ going to owe him for this.

"It's not the one about the freshman Physics class again, is it?" John slouched against the door jamb and scratched his chin, which only made the prickly stubble itch worse. The last time Rodney had called him in the middle of the night Rodney had been dreaming that he'd been mistakenly given a class full of college freshman who were only taking physics to satisfy university requirements. ("There were _English_ majors!" Rodney had shouted when he recounted the dream to Sheppard.)

Rodney made his way back to the sofa and sat down. A very large, already half-empty mug of coffee was on the table next to him. Sheppard noticed that Rodney was wearing pajama pants and a tee shirt that proclaimed "What I really need are MINIONS". He'd given Rodney that shirt on his last birthday.

John sat down on the other end of the sofa, leaning against the arm so his body was angled away from Rodney. They both stared at the blank screen of the television and lapsed into a comfortable silence.

As usual, it was Rodney that disturbed the quiet. "You know it's funny. All those years in Atlantis and I never had nightmares. But a few months back on Earth? It's a non-stop horror show inside my head. Who ever thought that graduate students could be more terrifying than Wraith?"

"You," John said casually. "You know I don't get why you went into teaching, anyhow. You hate working with totally competent, well-educated professionals, so why teach?"

John didn't mention that back on Atlantis, Rodney was known for his nightmares. He had, in the past, woken several security teams with his frantic calls, insisting that there were Wraith, Replicators, and Genii in his quarters. Security teams that were not at all pleased to find Rodney McKay dead asleep, unharmed, in his uncompromised quarters. And with no memory of the call.

After the third incident of Rodney "Talks In Sleep" McKay crying wolf the protocol was changed. Sheppard alone would respond. Then, if there really _was_ a problem, Sheppard would call for assistance. John had spent more nights than he wanted to remember sitting at Rodney's desk, making sure the imaginary Wraith didn't come back.

Rodney waved one hand and groped for his coffee with the other. "Jennifer's idea. I mean, it's not like we need the money, but she got bored, wanted to get back into practicing medicine, and figured that teaching would be good for me. I don't know. I think she thinks working with kids will..." another flapping gesture while McKay gulped coffee.

John watched, one eyebrow raised. "Y'think your caffeine intake might have something to do with your nightmares? This stuff is a little more potent than the stuff we had back h-- on Atlantis."

"You wanted to call it home, too, didn't you." They exchanged a look and let melancholy settle over them for a moment before Rodney snapped "Why _are_ you here, Sheppard?"

Sheppard blinked. "Be...cause... you called me? And asked me to come over?"

"Yes yes yes, I _know_ that. I mean why are you _here_? Why are you in Baltimore? I mean Jennifer's at shock trauma. I'm at Hopkins and you? What _are_ you doing? You're all 'Oh, I have to get up at six' but you never say for what. So what _are_ you _doing_?"

Sheppard shrugged and looked around the room. "Stuff? And things. Mostly stuff. Top secret type stuff. You know. Classified. Need-to-know."

Rodney fixed him with a glare. "Right. Like there's anything you'd need to know that I wouldn't need to know. We've got the same clearance still. I can call up any_one_ and get access to any_thing_ if I felt like it."

"So why don't you feel like calling up someone and _finding out_ what I'm doing?"

Rodney blinked rapidly, tipped his head back, and looked at Sheppard. "Well, I..." he stammered. "I figured you'd, you know, tell me? Because we always, well we always _have_ in the past that is, told each other. Pretty much. Everything?"

"Not everything," John muttered.

Rodney didn't seem to hear. He launched into a rant about idiot graduate students who were going to blow up the world and teaching assistants that seemed unable to read. John nodded and occasionally grunted in the places where it seemed like Rodney was looking for some sort of input. It didn't matter what John was doing there. Not really. He was there because sometimes Rodney needed him to be there, and that really was something McKay didn't need to know.


	5. Limits

**LIMITS: Radek Zelenka, Rodney McKay**

Zelenka and McKay sat next to each other, their bodies so close they were almost touching. They focused on the task at hand - an array of tiny crystals (some only slightly larger than a grain of sand) spread on black velvet as a jewler might display diamonds.

Using tweezers, Zelenka selected three nearly invisible fragments and then dropped them into a test tube. The clear liquid in the tube fizzed gently as the crystals dissolved.

Zelenka made a low humming sound. It was not a happy noise.

"What?" Rodney snapped. "What is it?"

"I don't know just yet. Give me a moment to process this sample."

Zelenka muttered to himself as he capped the tube and slotted it into the machine. Rodney had no idea if Zelenka was vocalizing the steps required to analyze the crystal, or if Zelenka was wishing harm on Rodney. Rodney assumed it was the latter.

In the past seventy-two hours, neither man had slept more than a fifteen-minute nap here and there. Zelenka's eyes were rimmed with red. Rodney was in serious need of a shave. They both smelled... less than fresh.

The centrifuge gave a thump and a wheeze. All the buttons on the control panel flashed briefly and then the machine fell silent. Radek let go a stream of utterances that could not be mistaken for anything other than swearing.

"I am sorry, Rodney. The trip from Pegasus, the re-entry... Atlantis took damage we haven't even realized yet. Systems are failing, and if we want to keep the city shielded we'll have to research elsewhere. Atlantis has reached her limit." He paused, expecting a verbal assault from Doctor McKay.

Rodney, apparently at a limit of his own, scrubbed his face with one hand and sighed. "I'll let Stargate Command know that we need a lab. You start packing up everything, and I mean _everything_ that we'll need to keep working."

Radek put a hand on Rodney's shoulder, stopping him as he turned to leave. "Rodney," he said before McKay could snap at him again, "we'll figure this out. We'll take Atlantis home." And he believed it. He knew it in every cell in his body. A limit wasn't an _end_. It was just a marker.


	6. Family

"Before you go," Weir says and gives the team a raised eyebrow and a teasing smile, "I want you to remember a few things."

Rodney sighs and looks up at the ceiling. "Keep your mouth shut and don't piss off the locals."

Ronon looks down at the floor and recites "I don't have to accept every time someone challenges me to a fight."

"Don't get us into situations where Ronon gets challenged to a fight," Sheppard adds.

Rodney thinks a moment and then shakes a finger at Elizabeth. "Don't mention the gene therapy!"

"Don't offer C4 in trade," Sheppard continues.

"Try not to shoot anyone?" Ronon supplies.

Rodney says "Don't get any giant bugs stuck to your neck," and Sheppard smacks him in the back of the head.

"I will try my best to keep them out of trouble," Teyla says.

"I'm sure you will," Elizabeth replies and gently gives Teyla's right bicep an affectionate squeeze. For all the trouble they get into, she knows that this group is less of a team and more like a family. A highly dysfunctional one, but completely loyal to each other and to Atlantis.


	7. Summer

It was hot. At a melting 93 degrees and a heat index that made it feel like 110 thanks to humidity that was through the roof, you couldn't even say "at least it's a dry heat". Sweating was useless. Not that that stopped Rodney. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, untying his shoes, feeling his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his back, and wondering what god or alien culture he'd pissed off this time. There was no reason, in 2009, for a house to be a toasty 85 degrees. Not when the air conditioner was running to the point of exhaustion.

He'd called Jennifer at work and asked if she'd called in a repairman.

"It's fine, Rodney. Don't be so dramatic. It's just too humid out. We're supposed to get some rain by the middle of next week and it'll cool off again."

"Middle of next week? I could be dead by then!"

Her laugh came through the phone, low and soft and sweet. "You're not going to die, Rodney. Just go take a cold bath. Drink some ice water. If you bring your core temperature down you'll feel better." There was commotion in the background. "Oh! Gotta go. I'll be home around seven tonight. Want me to pick up something on the way home?"

Rodney tried to say "an igloo" but the noise got louder and he could hear Jennifer shouting various commands to nurses, so he hung up without saying anything at all.

So here he was, miserable and uncomfortable even though the thermostat was set to sixty. The upstairs of the house was still in the mid-eighties, and the tiny, unventilated bathroom was almost tropical and she seriously expected him to not die?

He looked at his feet and realized that his socks had left deep dents in his calves. The heat, the constant sitting, the ... the boredom of academia was starting to take its toll on him physically. It was only August and he was only in the office for a few hours a week getting his syllabus and lesson plans in order, and checking that the bookstore had all three of the required books for his classes and already the sitting was making his legs swell. He was on his way to varicose veins and blood clots, for sure.

He finished undressing and tried not to look at himself in the mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. Rodney hadn't been skinny since his undergrad days, but back on Atlantis he'd at least been fit. Running from certain death, living on the edge of panic, constant treks through the wilderness had made him stronger. Fitter.

Happier?

Yeah. Happier. Because dying because a Wraith was sucking the life out of you was slightly more noble than life sucking the life out of you. Getting blown up by incompetent scientists had a little more dignity than an aneurysm on the stairs somewhere between the third and fourth floor of the science building.

And then it occurred to him: he loved Jennifer, but not this life. This wasn't who he was. This wasn't who he'd ever been. Maybe at one point he thought he wanted this, but at one point he thought he wanted to be a concert pianist. Hell, he was pretty sure that at some point in his life he thought he wanted to be a race car.

He felt like Archimedes; a brilliant discovery had come to him in the bath. Rodney avoided the temptation to shout "Eureka" and instead got out of the tub and dripped through the hall and into the bedroom. John's number was the second speed-dial button.

"McKay?" John's voice was hollow. Rodney hated when Sheppard used the speakerphone.

"I can't do this anymore," Rodney started. "You need to come over here right now and we have to talk."


End file.
